Normale Version: To A. C. L.
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To A. C. L.

Trough suffering and sorrow thou hast passed
To show us what a woman true may be:
They have not taken sympathy from thee,
Nor made thee any other than thou wast,

Save as some tree, which in a sudden blast
Sheddeth those blossoms that are weakly grown
Upon the air, but keepeth every one
Whose strength gives warrant of good fruit at last:

So thou hast shed some blooms of gayety,
But never one of steadfast cheerfulness;
Nor hath thy knowledge of adversity

Robbed thee of any faith in happiness,
But rather cleared thine inner eyes to see
How many simple ways there are to bless!